Come Hell and High Water
by deadly medley
Summary: This shouldn't have happened. She shouldn't have ended up in the hospital, simply because she was doing her job. (Or, the one where Felicity is poisoned, and Oliver knows it's his fault.)


**Prompt **from samanthapetrelli: She's now his assistant and they are separeted by a glass wall. What if she was checking his mail or packages when something gets blown on her face, or cuts her, or she just touches it. Anyway, it's poison. So she feels it and turns to go to Oliver, he sees through the glass walls, she stops, he frowns, she drops to the floor half conscious and he runs to her…

**Word Count:** 5,910

**Author's Notes:** Ahhh, the angst. It's not nearly as depressing as the Panry fic, but it's pretty sad. You know our Ollie. Moping and self-loathing is kind of his thing. Anyway, this starts out as comedy, then steadily gets angsty-er, then I don't know where it goes from there. It's just a mess.

Samanthapetrelli, I really hope I did your prompt justice. If not, I am so sorry.

I have no beta, so any and all mistakes belong to me. Arrow, however, does not. **Enjoy!**

* * *

"You have _failed_ this Felicity."

Oliver doesn't know what's worse – the fact that she's mocking him, or the fact that she's a hundred percent serious. He tries his very best not to laugh as she storms away because he knows that she wouldn't appreciate it, and it would only lead to more yelling.

(And it's impossible for him to pay attention when she's wearing that dress. It's not the grey dress – that wonderful piece of sin – but it's the black and blue equivalent. Seriously, her ass is just _wow._)

She storms into her little office and throws a glare at him as she sits down. He tries to hold back his own smile until she's turned her attention back to her computer. He leans back in his chair for a moment, before he starts looking over documents that he's successfully neglected over the past few weeks. Now Felicity isn't talking to him, and Digg is taking a rare day off, so he's got nothing else to do.

Two minutes later, he comes to the conclusion that he'd rather be back on Lian Yu, getting shot at and tortured, than sitting here, reading these… whatever the hell they're supposed to be.

"Felicity," he calls, and she only glances up at him, but it's a dark look. He takes the hint.

She's still mad.

Granted, it's only been two and a half minutes since their one-sided argument, but he would've expected her to have forgiven him by now. It's not _his_ fault that the new IT consultant undid everything she worked so hard for.

Okay, so it is. He's the one who moved her up here, but, as he's explained to her a thousand times, he needs her here. Upstairs. With him. Not eighteen floors away.

Because, seriously – eighteen floors? Who knows what could happen in that time? Someone could attack the building, take down all of the security… there are _eighteen floors _between them. By the time he gets to here, she could be dead and that's not a risk he's willing to take.

Ten months ago, that wouldn't have really been a possibility. No one had anything against the Queen's, so there was no real threat here. But now, Oliver Queen is public enemy number one. The people in Starling City – namely in the Glades – have no problem attacking the Queen's and everyone associated with them – including the employees at QC.

Coming to work every day is a risk – his first day back proved that. Oliver's not willing to put her in that kind of danger; not unless he's right there to save her.

Plus, there are too many creeps in this building. What with the way Felicity's been dressing lately (practically _begging_ people to stare), who knows what kind of people worked down there with her? Guys would've been staring, and making cat calls, and flirting with her –

(The pencil in his hand snaps.)

– and Felicity deserves better.

(A voice that sounds suspiciously like Diggle's reminds him that no one stares at Felicity more than he does. Oliver really, _really_ hates that voice.)

If he's honest, Oliver doesn't like the thought of anyone looking at Felicity for too long, or talking to her, or breathing around her. He gets pissed when the secretary in the lobby tells her good morning. He's limited her interactions down to him and Diggle and he'd very much like to keep it that way.

Other than his attraction to her, Felicity is also his friend. One of his very best friends. There's no one else to talk to about his day, no one else who understands his stress and anger and the only one who doesn't just write him off when he does something completely dick-ish.

Well, there's also Diggle. He could never forget Diggle. He's his best friend and partner in crime and right hand man. If Oliver has no one else in the world, he has Diggle… until he does something dick-ish, and acts like an emotionally stunted tool. (Thea's words, not his.) But the fact of the matter is, he has Felicity _and Diggle._

(He just doesn't have very vivid dreams starring one very naked John Diggle.

…That might possibly be the most disturbing thing he's ever thought.)

"Mister Queen?"

Oliver is pulled out of his thoughts/gagging by the voice over his intercom. He clears his throat and presses the button. "Yes, Jack?"

"There's a package here for you from a, uh… doesn't have a name, sir." Oliver takes note of how nervous Jack sounds, and he can't blame him. Packages aren't supposed to go past the front desk without names and stamps and all kinds of security precautions.

Oliver knows that he should tell Jack to throw it out, or send it through security or… something. But instead, he says, "Send it up."

Jack hesitates for a moment. "Yes, sir."

"I'll get it," Felicity says suddenly, causing Oliver's head to snap up. She stands from her desk and walks through the glass door and stops in front of his desk. "I may not have gone through secretarial school, but even I know that you're not supposed to get packages without them being checked."

"I'm perfectly capable of checking it myself, Felicity," he reminds her, standing up and buttoning up his suit jacket.

She holds up a hand. "I know that. But it's my job to do it. You do your job, let me do mine." She throws him a look, before she goes out to meet whoever's bringing up the package.

Oliver watches her stop right outside his office door, smile at the guy. His eyes narrow as the guy says something to make her laugh as she signs for the package. She places a hand on his arm before she grabs the package and waves at the man, entering the office again.

Oliver holds his hand out for the package but she pulls it into her chest. (Yeah, because that's gonna stop him.) When he raises an eyebrow, she gives him a look. "I'm supposed to _check_ the package, Oliver, I can't just hand it over."

"Felicity –"

"No," she tells him firmly. "I'm checking the package, and you cannot touch it until it's approved by me."

"Felicity," he repeats, but she gives him a look.

"Mister Queen?"

He stifles a sigh of frustration and pushes down on the button again. "Yes, Jack?"

"Miss Lance is here to see you. You have a coffee date, sir?"

Oliver hangs his head because he completely forgot. Things have been tense with Laurel since Tommy's death, and they're trying to rekindle their relationship. Not as a couple, but as friends. There were too many reasons why they would never work out, but Laurel is his oldest friend and one of the few people from his past he can't lose. "Thank you. Tell her I'll be right down."

"Yes, sir."

There's an awkward moment before Felicity speaks again. "You have a date."

"Coffee date." That doesn't change anything. It doesn't make it any less of a date, and it definitely doesn't change the fact that he's leaving her to be with Laurel.

Felicity holds up her hands in a surrendering gesture. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. Your life, your business. You go on your date – _coffee_ date, and have fun. The package will be checked and on your desk when you get back."

She doesn't leave any room for argument so he nods. He starts to walk out, but stops and turns back to her. "Felicity—"

"No. Get out of here, Oliver Queen."

He stares at her for a moment and turns around before she can see the smile on his face. "It's my office," he chuckles out, and he walks out, listening to her laughter.

Laurel is waiting in the lobby when he gets there. Looking at her now, Oliver doesn't feel anything. He doesn't feel butterflies or that throat clogging, heart stopping, face flushing feeling he used to get whenever he saw her. He finds comfort and a bit of joy in the fact that he's no longer in love with this woman who undoubtedly defines his past. "Ollie!" She greets and walks up to him. "Hey. You ready to go?"

He nods, then pauses. He checks all of his pockets, then lets out a breath. "I forgot my phone in my office. I'll run and go get it. It'll only take a second," he promises. Laurel nods and he turns around and heads back to the elevators.

The ride seems to take years. Oliver's not a very patient man, nor is he a big fan of small spaces. And, see, this – _this_ is why he didn't want Felicity all the way downstairs. Eighteen floors is way too far.

He feels himself relax when the elevator doors finally open. He walks purposefully to the doors of his office, but freezes at the sight before him. Felicity is exactly where he left her, right in front of his desk, but something's off. Her skin is paler than normal, her hands are shaking and she's still. "Felicity?" He fights to keep the concern out of his voice, but he knows he fails.

Her head snaps up to look at him, and something deadly courses through his veins at the absolute terror in her eyes. "Oliver…" She doesn't get out another word or take a single step before her eyes roll to the back of her head and she crumples to the ground, hitting her head on the sharp corner of his desk.

"_Felicity!"_

* * *

If you ask Oliver what happens next, he could honestly say he doesn't have a clue. He remembers checking her pulse –

(_Too low, too slow, too faint, she's dying_.)

—and he remembers calling for help. He knows he said something, but he doesn't know what. He remembers screaming at the EMTs as they took her, telling them that he wasn't leaving, that she couldn't go without him. He punched someone, he thinks. He remembers Diggle's voice in his ear, his arms around his middle, restraining him.

The drive to the hospital is a blank. He thinks he rode in the ambulance, thinks he remembers squeezing Felicity's hand like a life line, but he can't be sure. Before he knows it, he's sitting in the waiting room, waiting for any kind of news on his assistant.

He's aware of Diggle, Laurel, Roy and Thea shooting him concerned looks, but he's glad none of them say anything. He doesn't know how or when the younger couple arrived, but he's glad they're there, as Thea's hand serves as a substitute for Felicity's.

"Ollie," Thea speaks, after what could've been ten minutes or ten hours. She casts a hesitant glance towards the other occupants before looking back at her brother.

"I don't know what happened," Oliver states, and it's an odd statement. He's not used to admitting uncertainty, and he hates that he has to now. His uncertainty has someone who means too much to him lying in a hospital bed. "I left my office to go get coffee with Laurel. I was gone for five minutes…"

What happened in those five minutes?

It hits him like a semi truck filled with bricks. The package. Whatever was in that package caused this, he knows it.

He stands abruptly, and makes to move, but stops short. He can't leave. It's his fault she's here, he can't just leave.

"Oliver?"

The man turns to Roy –

(Felicity's voice enters his mind, laughing out something along the lines of, "I pity the poor boy who actually _does_ get your sister pregnant," when Oliver told her about the pregnancy test that Thea had left in the bathroom.

Oliver didn't find that very funny.)

– and contemplates his idea for a moment. "I need you to go back to my office," he carefully instructs. "And look around, see if you can find a package." He digs through his memory for a description of it. "Small, brown box. If you can't find that, look for anything that seems like it doesn't belong there."

Roy hesitates, but Thea grabs her purse and stands up. "I've been in the office more than enough times. I'll go with you."

A few more exchanged words, and the teens disappear, leaving Oliver, Diggle and Laurel in silence. Part of Oliver wants Laurel to sit next to him and take his hand like Thea did, so he can at least pretend that Felicity is next to him, soothing his worries. Another part, though – smaller or larger, he can't decide – blames her for this. If she hadn't gotten there when she did, this could've been avoided. Felicity would never be in the hospital right now. He would've been the one to check the package.

It's not fair, he knows. He can't blame Laurel for something she had no control over. _He_ asked _her_ out for coffee. She told him she would be there at that time. She didn't send the package. She didn't put Felicity here. He did.

The thought sickens him and he wishes now more than ever that he had something to punch. Usually when he felt this way, he could go down to the foundry and break some dummies in half, or go put an arrow through someone's leg, or spar with Digg. Speaking of…

He looks up at his faux bodyguard and realizes that he's not the only one affected by this. Digg's set jaw and clenched fists remind him of that. Oliver thinks back on all the times he listened to his two partners in crime (literally) tell jokes, and laugh and fist bump each other. He remembers the feelings of envy that came with the moments.

Digg has been a big brother figure to Felicity since day one. As Felicity tells it, there's no way you can save someone's life with a guy and not form a special bond with them. Same with Detective Lance, she told him.

"It's the same with you," she'd told him quietly. He would never forget the indescribable feeling those words gave him.

"Ollie," Laurel hisses to him and he looks up to see a doctor heading their way.

Digg stands up straight, arms crossed, feet slightly apart, as if he's waiting for trouble. Laurel stands from her seat and Oliver does, too. Laurel blindly grasps at his hands, and she tangles their fingers together. Oliver wonders why she's freaking out. She doesn't know Felicity. And when they did meet, Oliver remembers, Laurel wasn't very nice.

He shoves the thoughts away for another time.

"Mr. Queen," the doctor greets, before he takes a breath and looks at his clipboard. "I'll be blunt with you. Miss Smoak was a victim of methyl chloride poisoning. It's fast-acting, which is why she passed out so soon after being exposed to it. Luckily, she was treated before the poison could cause any lasting effects. She'll be a bit weak for a while, and will need assistance. My advice is to have someone stay with her until she can move around on her own. She also has a concussion, so someone needs to monitor her closely for the next few days."

The doctor looks up from his papers and gives the three adults a bright smile, as if everything is just fine in the world. Oliver, Digg and Laurel all resist the urge to wipe the smile off his face.

"She's awake now," the doctor continues. "They're moving her to a better room. A nurse will be by soon to take you to her." He throws the group one last brilliant smile before he goes to deliver more bad news to other families and friends.

Every word struck Oliver hard. There's no doubt in his mind now that the package is what caused this. The package meant for him. Someone was trying to kill him and she got hurt instead. All because she wanted to do her damn job. _Did you really think putting her closer to you would save her life?_

"That man came from a special ring of hell," Laurel mutters, turning her sight to her ex-lover. "Ollie?"

Oliver can't look at her. Not because he's angry with her, but because he's angry with himself. When he's angry with himself, he tends to lash out at others and that's the last thing he wants to do now. He doesn't have the right to get angry at anyone right now.

"Mr. Queen?" A nurse stops in front of them, and glances around the group before offering Oliver a small smile. "The room is ready."

She leads them down a winding hallway, and Oliver will swear until the day that he dies that they passed the same nauseating portrait about three times before they reached Felicity's room. He's almost positive that if he looks back, around Diggle's large form, he will see the chair that he was just sitting in, not ten minutes ago.

Now is not the time nor the place for that, though. He nods at the nurse before he knocks softly on the door – something Felicity constantly yells at him for notdoing nearly enough – and enters the room.

Felicity looks up from her phone (is she supposed to be on that right now?) and smiles at them, then quickly frowns. "That," she directs to Oliver, pointing a chewed down nail at him, "is the last time I'm checking any of your packages."

Oliver almost flinches, but manages to stop himself. "Good," he says, stepping farther into the room. "Then we agree on something."

Felicity throws him a look before glancing at the room. She smiles softly at Diggle, then winces when she sees Laurel. "I totally ruined your date, didn't I?"

"Coffee date," Oliver corrects, before realizing that that's probably not the best thing to say. "You didn't ruin anything."

"Yeah," Laurel agrees. "It's not like you meant to get put in the hospital."

"I definitely did not. I mean, I don't think anyone _means_ to end up in the hospital. Unless, you know, they're into that kind of thing. I'm not really a fan of masochism or anything dealing with pain, but if you are, and that's what you like, then by all means–"

"Felicity," Diggle interrupts, and the blonde immediately quiets. "What was in that package?"

"Which we didn't find, by the way," Thea's voice cuts in as she enters the hospital with Roy right on her heels. "The office was completely clean. Not, like, police cleaned, but criminal cleaned."

Oliver curses under his breath. Whoever did this was smart. This wasn't a spur of the moment attack. It wasn't a sloppy assassination attempt. He considers who it could've been. Someone after Oliver? Possibly. Some after the Arrow? Also possible. The League of Assassins are trained and know his identity. He makes a mental note to pay them a visit soon.

"Well?" He prompts, staring down at Felicity, who breaks eye contact with Roy. For a moment, he wonders what that was about; as far as he knows, the two never met. He quickly decides that it doesn't really matter right now. "What was in the package?"

Felicity's face contorts as she racks her brain for the answer to his question. Oliver opens his mouth to take it back, fearing that he's causing more pain than she's already in, before her face goes blank. "I can't remember," she tells the group, and the shock and fear in her voice makes Oliver's heart contract. "I can't remember anything after you left."

She looks up at him, and now more than ever, Oliver wants to run. He knows that look in her eyes. It's the look of fear he's seen so many times in Laurel, Sara, and Thea's eyes. That look of fear. The look of trust, because Oliver's always had answers. He always knows what to do. All of the time on the island didn't leave him much room for confusion or uncertainty, so he has to know what to do at all times. But the fact that he doesn't know what to do now, when she needs his guidance the most makes him want to run and hide and send himself right back to the purgatory he spent so much time trying to escape.

* * *

If there's one thing Oliver favors about this city, it's the consistency. Despite the surprising turns of events he experiences nightly, he can be sure of one thing – it doesn't really change. Every time he looks out at the city, it's the same as the night before. Hundreds of cars driving by, stuck in traffic. Lights in apartment buildings flickering on or off. Women clutching their purses as they make their way to the cars, smiling at their companions, or glancing around cautiously.

He knows this city and the fact that it always looks the same brings him comfort. At least one thing in his life is stable.

Everything else is spiraling out of control, he knows. When is it not? He can't remember a single time in the past five years when things haven't been changing and catching him off guard. He's used to things being in constant motion. He's used to things coming and going in the blink of an eye.

Felicity and Digg are his reprieve from that. He knows that, no matter what, those two will never change. They will never not call him on his bullshit. They will never not fight him when they know he's wrong, when _he_ knows he's wrong. They will never not be able to put a smile on his face after an impossibly long day. They will never not make him want to be a better man.

_Will they always be there, though?_ That, ladies and gentlemen, is the question of the year. He knows that they will never leave him willingly – not for long, anyway – but that's not what he's afraid of. He'd rather they leave Team Arrow and live safe, normal lives than the lives they live now, even if he couldn't have the comfort of their constant presence. That, he's sure, is much better than not having them in the world at all. That's a pain he wouldn't be able to handle. If he had to wake up one morning and face the fact that Felicity and/or Diggle were gone for good. He wouldn't be able to survive that.

It's funny because he's been there before. He's faced that possibility. Every time he has Diggle slip into the suit in his place, or whenever the man follows him into battle, he knows that the man might not go home that night. He knows that he might get the ex-militant killed in this battle for justice. He faces that reality every night, every time Felicity bandages their wounds, while snapping at the two of them for not taking care of themselves or each other properly.

He's sort of accepted that reality with Diggle. The man was in war, he reminds himself constantly. He's had his years of fighting, and he's ready to die for a good cause. Diggle isn't afraid of death. The thought of the man dying doesn't really cross Oliver's mind anymore. He's survived through so much, Oliver kind of thinks him invincible.

Felicity, though… Oliver has done everything in his power to keep that from ever being a possibility when it came to her. He rarely allows her to go out into the field – that's what he and Diggle are for. Sure, there are some times when it can't be avoided, when she absolutely has to put herself in danger for things to work out in their favor, but Oliver tries to keep those to a minimum. He has a mini heart attack every time she even suggests going out, and he shoots the idea down before it's fully out of her mouth.

Somehow, though, she wins every time.

He's adamant about the fact that he's nearby every time. She's not allowed to turn her comm. link off. Ever. She has to stay in constant communication. Even if nothing's going on, he needs her to say something every few minutes, just so he knows without a shadow of a doubt that she's safe. Every time someone hurts her, God so help them, the fury of hell is sure to rain down on them like a torrential downpour.

He never considered that she would get hurt outside of their night job. He never thought that she would get hurt, just because she knew him. Just because she was doing her job.

"That's sad," her voice pipes up, causing him to turn from the window to face her. Her eyes are still half-closed, and the grogginess is still present in her voice. "Even in my sleep, I can hear your moping."

He tries to offer her a smile, but can tell by the frown on her face that it doesn't work. "Sorry," he apologizes, walking over to her bed. "I was just thinking."

"Moping," she corrects. "Very loudly by the way. I was having a very nice dream about kittens and perfumes and Tyler Hoechlin, before you oh-so rudely interrupted me." At his blank stare, her shoulders sag. "You know. Tyler Hoechlin? Werewolf guy? On Mondays, we wear leather?" Oliver turns his head a few degrees, giving her a confused look. "You're hopeless."

He lifts his eye brows in agreement, before the room falls silent again. He stares down at the white sheet that covers her frail body and tries not to let his thoughts get too deep again, lest he interrupt her dreaming again.

"It's not your fault, you know," she speaks again, after a few moments. Oliver closes his eyes because she really can't say that. Not when it's a lie. "Oliver. Look at me." After a moment, he does. There's no blame in her eyes. A bit of anger, frustration, weariness and annoyance, but no blame. "It's not your fault."

"It was my package," he says. "That poison was meant for _me._ If you hadn't opened it –"

"Which was my decision," she counters a bit loudly. "_I_ made the decision to open it, Oliver, you didn't tell me to."

"I made you my executive assistant."

She throws her arms up in a frustrated gesture. "_Now_ you feel guilty about that? God, Oliver, it was me who opened the box. It's my life, my choice. And don't you dare think about firing me," she spits out and Oliver blinks. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind. Now, it doesn't seem like such a bad idea. "I don't need you to protect me all the time. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"I can move you back to IT. You can get your old job back. You'll be safer."

"I don't _want_ to go back," she cries. "As hard as I worked for that position, and as much as I hate being your secretary, I don't want to go back. Sure, I didn't go to college to go fetch you coffee, but I also didn't go so I could get called to Freddie's office every week to _fix his computer_, which is just about the lamest excuse I've ever heard ."

Oliver's eyes narrow at that. Just who is this _Freddie?_

"Oliver!" Felicity pinches the bridge of her nose and Oliver notices that she isn't wearing her glasses. Her face looks smaller without them. "I don't need you to protect me. Not from poisons, or house intruders, and definitely not from pervy guys in the office. If he actually does something, then feel free to break his nose – _as Oliver_ – but I can protect myself."

_I'm going to break much more than just his nose if he even thinks about it,_ Oliver thinks, but chooses not to share it.

"I almost lost you tonight," he says instead, and they're both shocked at the confession. "And I've never been more terrified of anything. Not when I was on that island, or when the Glades went down, or any of the time in between. I walked into that office and I watched you fall to the ground. I watched you hit your head on my desk, and my heart stopped. When you wouldn't wake up, I thought…" He looks away from her then because that emotion is too raw. He still feels like he might lose her at any second.

"But you didn't." Her voice is so soft, it forces him to look at her. Her hands grip the sheet covering her legs tightly, but she slowly eases her grip. "You _didn't_ lose me, Oliver. I'm right here." She weakly lifts a hand and Oliver doesn't hesitate in lacing their fingers together. "It's going to take more than a bit of poison to keep me down."

He tenses at that.

"I'm going to die someday," she sighs, and it's the most nonchalant she's ever been about death. She freaks out when she's out in the field, cries when their missions go south, and sometimes she even has breakdowns while patching up Oliver and Digg. Right now, though, she's frustratingly calm concerning her own death. "And you can't blame yourself for that. I'm a walking disaster, things like this are going to happen."

"Not if I can help it."

"You _can't_, Oliver. You can't… you're not Superman. You can't save everyone. Not from everything. And with what we do? Who you are? There are going to be casualties."

"And you're not going to be one of them," he snaps. He refuses to accept that bullshit. She's not a _casualty_. She's his executive assistant, his best friend, his Girl Friday, the object of his affections, the love of his life, his Felicity, but she is not, and will never be, a casualty.

What makes sense to him only seems to anger her more. "So it's perfectly fine for Digg to put his life on the line every night, but I have to be kept under lock and key?"

"Digg can protect himself."

"He's been teaching me, you _know_ that."

"It's not the same," Oliver grinds out.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I'm not in love with Diggle," he explodes, and has to step back from the bed to reign himself back in. He doesn't mean to say the words. He's barely come to terms with the intensity of his feelings for her, and now probably isn't the best time to spring them on her. Too little, too late.

"You totally just said the thing."

Oliver's eyes snap open and he looks up at her. Her eyes are wide and shocked, and not nearly as confused as he always thought they'd be. In fact, she looks a bit amused.

"It literally took you a year to say that?" She gives him an annoyed look. "It took me almost dying for you to say you loved me."

"Yes," he confirms slowly. "And you don't seemed surprised at all."

"Oh, I am. I mean, surprised that you love me? Kind of, but not really. Digg and Carly and Thea and Walter and several people at the office have thrown out their suspicions, most of which suggesting that you might have feelings for me. I'm not surprised it took you this long, though. Actually, I'm proud that you got it out at all. I thought it'd take you at least a few more years. And this is definitely not how I imagined this situation going. I was thinking more of a –"

"Felicity," he cuts her off exasperatedly.

"I love you, too." A smile comes across her lips, and if Oliver didn't think he'd get in trouble for it, he'd probably crawl onto the bed himself and kiss her like crazy.

Instead, he leans down and gently presses his lips against hers. "Get some sleep," he advises her. Though that ranks very low on the lists of things he wants her to do right now, he can tell that she's exhausted. Besides, he notes, they'll have plenty of time for other activities later.

"Stay?" She requests, yawning behind her hand.

He nods once. "I'm not going anywhere."

She's asleep in minutes. Oliver returns to his original position by the window, listening to the soft sounds of her even breathing.

"How is she?"

Oliver looks over his shoulder at Sara. The younger woman stands by Felicity's bed side, staring down at the injured blonde. "I thought you were in hiding," he says instead.

"When I heard something went down at Queen Consolidated, I kind of freaked out. I called Digg, and he told me you were fine. Said it was Felicity I had to worry about." She looks up from Felicity's form. "Tell me whoever did this has an arrow in their throat."

"Not yet," Oliver informs her, walking closer to the bed, setting his gaze on Felicity, even though his thoughts are on Sara. He briefly wonders when she and Diggle exchanged phone numbers, and when she had the time to become so protective over Felicity. He doesn't mind, though. He likes the fact that there's at least one woman from his past who approves of the life and the friends he's made now. He's glad that he's grown attached to one person who won't cause him and his partners misery. "But they will."

"Good. Just hope you find them before I do."

"Does it matter? Whoever it is, they're going to die, either way."

Sara doesn't object. Even if they're both trying to turn over a new leaf, there's a certain line. Oliver will bet every single penny his family owns that Digg feels the same way. It's one thing to target Oliver Queen – he can take care of himself. It's when someone he loves gets involved…

"You finally told her."

Somehow, it doesn't surprise Oliver that Sara knows how feels about Felicity, or that she knows he told her. He wonders _how_ she knows, but figures it's not worth the questioning. "I did."

For the first time since her arrival, Sara smiles at him. "Good. You need someone like her." He does. Someone who won't take his bullshit, who won't shrink away every time he throws a tantrum. Someone who isn't scared of him. He needs someone who can make him smile, and create happy memories, and make him feel like a person, not a monster. He needs Felicity. "Don't hurt her, though."

Oliver raises an eyebrow at her. "Or you'll kill me?"

Sara gives him an unimpressed look. "Like I'd be that nice. Diggle, though – he might just kill you." Oliver doesn't doubt it. Even if he can take Diggle in a sparring match, or even in an angry match, he doubt he could hold his own against the soldier if he got _that_ angry.

"Don't worry. I don't plan on hurting her."

Sara smiles again. "I know." She takes Felicity's hand and squeezes softly before letting go. She steps away from the bed. She doesn't announce that she has to leave. Oliver already knows. "Take care of her, Ollie." By the time he looks up from his now-lover's form, Sara is long gone.

Oliver doesn't need her warnings, or her commands. He doesn't plan on letting Felicity get this close to death ever again. He silently vows to do everything in his power to keep her safe – be it at the office, or in the Foundry.

First step, though…

Finding this Freddie guy.


End file.
